In the wake of the news.

When weight of world is mere 2 pounds

It is 8 o'clock at night. The parents are in the hospital's cafeteria. Their baby is on a different floor, out of an incubator at last, finally big enough to be in a crib.

John Dallas Moyer, from the little town of Orangeville, Ill., was born 32 years ago Saturday. He grew up to be a strapping 6 feet 3 inches and 265 pounds.

"I was probably a 9-pound baby," he said. "I'm not sure exactly how big I was."

Colton Dallas Moyer, of the large city of Chicago, was born four days before last Christmas, three months premature. His father can tell you exactly how small he was.

"One pound, 15 ounces."

Not long ago, John Moyer of the Rush put his 2006 Arena Football League championship ring in an incubator beside his newborn son. It is remarkable how huge a piece of jewelry can look next to a new human being.

Jennafer Moyer shows you a photo of her beautiful baby boy, her firstborn. Colton is more than 2 months old now. But she still hasn't been able to take him home.

"She kept getting mad at me," her husband the football player said. "I said the baby's definitely going to be a 10-pounder if he goes to full term."

March 27 was the original due date for the Moyer couple's blessed event. Now, fingers crossed, they hope to have their son home by then.

In the meantime, John wakes up at 4:30 a.m. each day, but not to get formula or change a diaper. He works out at 5:30. He drives from downtown Chicago to northwest suburban Hoffman Estates to be at Rush training camp by 7:30. He is on the field at 9. Practice and meetings keep him there until 3:30, the team preparing for next Sunday's season opener in Kansas City.

Then back from Rush camp in rush-hour traffic, back to the hospital for a chance to hold his boy--a boy who for much of life has weighed less than a football.

Many teammates aren't aware of what's going on in Moyer's life. It's simpler this way. Makes it easier to focus on his work for a few hours.

A coach who does know about the baby's precarious situation spoke up a few days ago: "So how's Colton doing?"

Moyer gave him a look. Like, thanks for asking, but not here, please, not now.

The two-way lineman has the longest tenure of anyone on the team. "Best parking spot" is his perk.

He joined the Rush in 2002. He won the AFL's lineman of the year award in 2004. He has been the team's lineman of the year four times in five seasons.

Orangeville, population 767, is in northwest Illinois, near the Wisconsin border. From there Moyer went to Eastern Illinois. He didn't go on to the pro fame Tony Romo did, but from 2003-05 he did lead the indoor league in sacks.

And it might not have been a Super Bowl, but he did help bring Chicago a pro football championship with a 69-61 Arena Bowl victory over Orlando last June 11.

Now he gladly would give up that ring he won for a promise that his baby is going to win an ongoing struggle for life.

Just last week, a premature baby in Miami went home after having spent less time in a womb than any other known surviving infant. Amillia Taylor was born 9 1/2 inches long and not even 10 ounces.

Colton Moyer was 14 inches long, born after only 26 weeks. He was given the middle name of Dallas because five generations of Moyer men have.

"When he cried and breathed on his own, that was such a good sign," John said. "The doctors said that's a great head start on life."

But with a newborn as fragile as that, nothing is certain. New parents can't wait to shout their news to the world, but the Moyers were too worried to do that. There was no baby shower. They made no birth announcement.

Christmas night, Jennafer and John came home from the hospital and fell into bed so exhausted, one had to remind the other it was a holiday.

"I'm so discombobulated, half the time I don't know what day it is," Jennafer said.

While the rest of Chicago's football fans watched the Super Bowl, the Moyers got home from visiting Colton and caught a couple of highlights on the TV news.

For a month and a half, John said, "It was more like hour-by-hour, not day-by-day. We'd be in the hospital all day long. And that's probably not the best thing because it seems like every two minutes there would be a little alarm. You stare at him, you stare at the alarm and you stare back at him."

Every night at Northwestern Memorial they are there, watching nurse Jenny Bolton and the other caregivers on the staff give 24/7 care to their son.

There is no guarantee when the baby can go home. Late March would be the earliest. Even then, visitors would need to be kept to a minimum for risk of a cold or infection.

"No parties, no showers for at least six months because he cannot be around that many people," Jennafer said.

"They told me not even to take him to the store with me."

She can live with that. She recently was able to return to her job in pharmaceutical sales. There's no rush.

"Our stress is nothing," John said. "He's done the most fighting out of all of us."

It's a matter now of a large football player's very little son somehow finding the strength.